


It's not simple

by ShadowSelene (Shadowdianne)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 18:43:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12941394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/ShadowSelene
Summary: SQ prompt: one based on 'She Used to Be Mine' by Jessie Mueller? Tbh I think it kind of fits both Regina and Emma. Asked by emakaylee via tumblr--------------------------------------She had been so sure back then, she thought, recalling the moment she had decided to stay, that she wouldn’t be deterred. Ironically, she hadn’t been the one who had left.Or the moment Emma contemplates what she has become and what does she want.





	It's not simple

The sun was settling and its rays played off against the slowly browning leaves, dotting darker spots on the forest floor as the light diffused around the thinning trees in where Emma stood, hands on her jacket pockets and boots slightly mudded due to her recent hike. The sky, colored in golds and pinks that quickly began to turn their shade into a muted grey, seemed to stare at her as she sighed, back firmly on the nearest tree trunk while she tried her best to not stare at the asphalt river that run between the trees, at the further town line that extended behind them.

So far, she thought, her right hand’s thumb pressed against her index fingertip, the nail digging painfully into her flesh, she had been successful. So much, her mind quipped, that she hadn’t crossed it yet.

At the other side, half hidden by the autumnal forest, Storybrooke glinted its first lights in the quickly approaching night. The slight shimmer of the sea beyond the houses would have called the blonde’s attention any other night but today, however, it did not and as she kept on feigning indifference to the near line she wondered, once again, why she hadn’t crossed it yet.

The thought had appeared the second she had stepped outside the portal, Killian’s hand at her side suddenly heavy and stifling as she glanced back one more time only to see the light hitting Storybrooke’s pavement pattern mercilessly. She had grimaced as he had tried to kiss her, the cold feeling on the back of her throat, the suddenly too uncomfortable surface of leather against the palm of her hands as she had smiled at him, pushing him as she stepped aside far too much the moment the realization no one else had crossed the portal behind them dawning on her.

The resulting conversation with her parents had been equally overwhelming and she had felt her mother’s gaze on her as she had kept on playing with the rim of the tea cups the woman had bought, her bitten nails white and jagged as she pressed her fingers into the surface, the glint of her ring cold and yet obnoxious as Killian waved his hand, dismissing David and Snow’s worries over Regina’s sudden departure.

A departure, Emma could see it written all over the way her mother, whose touch had felt as hot, as painful, as Killian’s as she had tried to make her talk, had already been considered even before Regina had known herself.

The light faded around her even more and the distant howling of a wolf made her blink back into the present and into the sudden coldness that reached its bony fingers to her. The soil beneath her boots was pliant and she dug a small hole with the sole of the boot, her breathing even as she -finally- stood straighter against the tree.

The wolf.

The memory -a faded one, painted in the same color every memory she had of the brunette woman seemed to be colored with recently- of the animal, of Regina’s scoff as she asked her if she truly thought for it to be real, coming back to her alongside with the almost forgotten assuredness with which she had replied to her, a nod making her hair bob.

She had forgotten what that felt; the assuredness, the realization that she had someone who got her back. As soon as they had come back from her parents’ home Emma had stared at the mirror and had tried to pry the feelings, the emotions, Snow had tried to coax out of her only to find an empty shell. She had always hated mirrors, she had reasoned with herself as she had turned away from it, fingers caressing the edge of her sweater, the tips grazing the spot where her tattoo remained hidden to the world.

Now she felt like touching it again, to feel the protrusion of her veins, the magic on her fingers sparkling slightly at that negligible touch as the wolf growled at some point within the forest. It had hurt, she recalled, not as much as she had feared but she still had cried a little, back straight as a rod and the count to ten repeating over and over inside her mind.

She had laughed at the end though, the ink still raven against her skin, the lines slick and new on her flesh. She wondered, almost absentmindedly, her eyes going back to the town line she knew she could cross if she dared to walk enough, to move, if today she would do something as spontaneous, as free.

She already knew the answer and, with its realization, the wolf came back, somehow seeming almost about to touch her even if there was nothing when Emma briefly glanced down, half expecting to see the yellow eyes of the beast looking back at her. Instead of those muddy leaves and fern trembled slightly at the slowly growing breeze; the smell of stagnant water reaching her as she breathed in, goosebumps covering the back of her neck as she dropped her hands further into her pockets, teeth nibbling into her bottom lip.

Visibility was already difficult but, if she tried to, she could almost see the neon color of the line painted by the dwarves so long ago. Back in a time when Regina had vowed to make her go away.

The thought brought with it a small tremble as laughter got choked up in a sob she dragged, filtering it through slightly parted lips while she blinked quicker than before, the sudden bite of coldness reaching the rim of her eyes as tears threatened to fell. She had been so sure back then, she thought, recalling the moment she had decided to stay, that she wouldn’t be deterred. Ironically, she hadn’t been the one who had left.

Regina had and yet she was the one who felt being running away, away from them.

It was funny, she thought, taking a step towards the road, her feet feeling numb as she stopped yet again, an almost caress grazing the back of her calves, fur that felt as if made of shadow touching her only to disappear as soon as she tried to see the wolf. It was funny, she found herself muttering, pressing her tongue against the roof of her mouth, how much she had tried to not run only to, finally, do it altogether.

She had only wanted to find home and yet, she mussed, extracting one hand from her jacket pockets and placing it on top of her stomach, just below her diaphragm, she didn’t really know what was home anymore. A truly lost girl.

The feeling of the fabric against her fingertips felt strange, dulled, and she clawed at it ever so slightly as she thought again on the town line and the tattoo she could almost see asking for with slightly wobbling lips and yet firm resolution. The same one that had led her once, that had colored her voice and had given her warmth. A warmth that used to be hers and still now felt lost.

As Regina, as Henry were. As she was.

She could cross the line, her mind whispered to her, the timbre of that voice reminiscing of another part of her, one she had tried to quiet down as she gave and transformed; the sheriff, the newcomer gone; the savior stepping in. She could walk away, a ring on her finger that she would probably leave behind and nothing but a small note that would call for a freedom she didn’t felt like hers anymore. For a part in a play she didn’t want to play.

She could remember, she found herself thinking, another playful bite of the breeze raising goosebumps on her skin, her magic pulsing on her neck, the moment she had told Regina she was pregnant; her tone subdued in a way she had almost faltered as Regina had taken a step towards her, a hug on her gaze. One she had never given her at the end. She had looked strangely unsurprised and Emma now wondered if that had been the natural progression; the next chapter in a history she felt constricting, heavy under chains of words that weren’t hers and never had been.

She had wanted to kiss her then and there. She hadn’t.

Time was beginning to run out, however, and she needed to go back, she needed to keep the clock running just as she had started to move it the moment she had stared at a certain former queen and knew. Knew something she now even feared to consider.

Home, she thought, still touching her midriff, thinking again on that final chapter, she needed to go back home. Wherever that was.

On the distance, too far for her to hear it anymore, the wolf howled. Its voice didn’t reach Emma but they did to another one, a younger one, a braver one that stared from within the blonde, hidden to her own reach but still there. Still hers.

Outside, Emma shivered; a promise forming on her mind.

She was going home.


End file.
